


Without A Noise, Without My Pride (I Reach Out From The Inside)

by raendown



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: Born to be sacred, raised to herald a new dawn for his people, Tobirama carries the blessings of the gods in his eyes and the hopes of the Senju clan on his shoulders. But there is always more than one way to interpret destiny and Tobirama was also blessed with a brother who looks at the world just a little differently than anyone else.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 26
Kudos: 455
Collections: MadaTobi Week 2020





	Without A Noise, Without My Pride (I Reach Out From The Inside)

**Author's Note:**

> For the MadaTobi Month prompt "red eyes are sacred".

When their first heir was born the Senju celebrated with a battle hardened sort of fervor, the bloodthirsty yet weary celebration of a people safe in the knowledge that their war would continue, their main line safe. Butsuma carried his first son with pride. He named the child Hashirama and rocked the boy to sleep with stories of how strong he would grow to be. Those first two years were filled with content as the battles with their greatest enemies swayed in their favor, the Senju taking fresh energy from the new hope born to them just as they did with the beginning of every new generation. 

Then something changed with the second son.

After a hard pregnancy filled with many complications the Lady Senju went in to labor far too soon. Though the midwives told her that her second child may not survive coming in to the world so early she set her jaw and pushed as hard for this son as she had for her first, determined to love them the same. From the moment his head crowned it was clear that they could never be the same.

Snow white hair and skin like ice caps over a mountain, the babe was silent. Only when the midwife held him up by both feet and swatted him on the bottom did it startle him in to a piercing shriek that lasted until he was handed in to his mother’s arms, the cord connecting them severed and tied off. Then he returned to silence. With soft coos and gentle encouraging whispers the lady Senju held her child close for the first several hours of his life and allowed no others to come near her. Her protectiveness was rewarded when small eyes cracked open for the very first time.

Red as blood, framed by skin so pale as to be almost translucent, lashes long and sweeping and just as light, the second Senju heir possessed eyes that marked him as special from the day he was born. 

On that day the Senju celebrated as they never had before. The gods had sent them an omen, a promise. After generations of bloodshed and war they would finally triumph over their enemies and show the Uchiha that they were truly the favored ones. With the birth of an heir with red eyes their future was secured. The Senju told no one of their good fortune; when their smiles grew vicious and jagged as they faced their ancient enemies the Uchiha could only wonder and worry. 

It would take them nearly two decades to discover the secret.

Tobirama grew with the weight of his people’s expectations held upon his shoulders as a king wears the golden arrayments of his station. From before he learned to mimic language himself he understood that he was sacred to his clan and yet only very few times had he ever abused this unique power for his own selfish purposes. As a child, of course, he had pushed the boundaries as all children do to learn how far he could stretch the rules and restrictions set upon him, how far he could push the adults in positions of supposed authority. Once or twice as an adolescent in the throes of his own hormones he had used his position to ensure that word of whatever rule he had broken would not reach his father’s ears. But such incidents were few and far between. Growing alongside a brother as earthen as Hashirama and loved by a woman as full of grace as the Lady Senju ensured that he grew in to a man who knew right from wrong and what it meant to hurt those considered precious. 

He also knew what it was to carry the hopes and dreams of others upon his back. Eyes that portended a triumphant future and a mind sharp enough to pave the way there meant that Tobirama could take no chances of having their advantage discovered. To keep someone with as much natural skill with a blade as him from the battlefield would be folly yet could they truly afford the chance that any Uchiha might see him? Might see the treasured knowledge he had been born with?

Until the year he turned eleven years old Tobirama left the safety of their compound only under the cover of night when the darkness leeched all hues from the world around them, coloring his precious eyes dark like ink. It was several months after his birthday when he happened to pass through a village cleaning up after some festival or another and he caught sight of a woman with ribbons in her hair and yards of gauzy lace wrapped around her form to create a costume reminiscent of a fairy. Tobirama was entranced. Stealing a piece of that gauze was as easy as flicking his hand out when they passed on the street and he realized the moment he tied it across his eyes that he had found the solution. 

At last he had the means to fulfil the purpose he had surely been born to. Eleven years old and finally he could step on to the battlefield and aid his people in the ever-changing tides of war against the Uchiha. 

Tobirama was seventeen when he realized that his eyes were not, as he had been told all his life, a blessing from the gods. 

Curses and vitriol blistered the air as his back hit the earth, eyes clenching shut behind the strip of gauze worn to protect them from the unworthy gaze of any Uchiha – but especially from the one who stood over him now, heavy gunbai an incidental weight held confidently in one hand. The tip of it pressed forward until Tobirama felt his windpipe protest with a wheeze. He felt genuine surprise when the pressure eased. 

“Inquiring minds burn to know,” Madara grumbled from above him with a level of sarcasm he wasn’t used to hearing except from himself. “How the hell does a blind adolescent train himself to such skill as to decimate every patrol he comes across?”

“Kill me and be done with it.” There was really no point in answering any questions if he was going to die anyway. Perhaps he was not born to be a sign after all but a rallying cry, a tragedy to be answered with victorious revenge the likes of which even their bloody peoples had never seen. Such were his thoughts until the heir of their greatest enemy cocked his head with a thoughtful hum. 

“I’m not that stupid. We’ve seen the way your clansmen tread around you. Even in battle they watch your every step like you’re a god come to earth or some nonsense. We thought maybe it was worry at first, you being blind and all.”

The tip of his gunbai rose and Tobirama bared his teeth with a snarl, giving the other pause. 

“Can’t be, though,” he went on. “You’re almost a match for your brother in skill. Kami knows you’re a perfect match to  _ my _ brother – and you’ve no idea how often I hear the complaints about that.”

“Perhaps your brother should learn to wield his sword with some manner of skill then,” Tobirama snapped. This young man, barely older than himself, represented everything he had been born and raised to hate. Shame coursed through him to have been taken down so easily after so many years training his speed but he ruthlessly pushed such a useless emotion to the side. Most important now was to resist all efforts at conversation. He could not – would not – give any information to this worm. 

With a scowl for his lack of cooperation Madara huffed and gave up on all pretenses of humor. “What makes you so special then, hm?”

“My winning personality.”

“Obviously not the color of your skin,” the other ignored him entirely. “Albinism doesn’t make you weak.”

“And kekkei genkai don’t make you strong,” Tobirama murmured just loud enough that he knew the man could hear him. A smirk touched his lips when he saw broad shoulders twitch with insult. 

Unfortunately Madara brought with him much more self-control today than he’d ever been known to exhibit on the battlefield. Rather than give in to the temper obviously building in the rigid muscles of his back he simply breathed in and out, cocking his head to observe from a new angle. Tobirama felt like one of his own experiments mid-dissection. It was not a pleasant feeling. On the off chance he lived through this he might be tempted to apologize to the next animal he took apart in the name of research. 

Just as he realized the silence had gone on perhaps a bit too long the gunbai twitched. And like a fool he fell for the distraction. Both hands shot up on instinct to press back against the weapon threatening his neck; at the same time Madara's other hand flicked out in a lightning quick motion. Cold steel brushed the skin of Tobirama’s cheek, just enough of a shock that his eyes remained wide open when the gossamer material shielding them from unwanted attention parted and sagged. He could practically taste the moment an Uchiha looked upon his red irises for the very first time. 

It tasted like defeat and horror, like betraying the hopes of his people. 

“Your eyes,” Madara breathed. 

“They’re not for you!” Tobirama snarled. He felt strangely exposed to have someone outside their own clan look upon him like this. 

Madara said nothing more and Tobirama realized that this was his chance. The twist he forced his body to do popped several places in his spine and only succeeded because of his opponent’s distraction but a moment later he was up on his feet, no longer at the mercy of an enemy’s blade. It felt strange to glare back at the other man with no barrier between them. For all that he could see perfectly fine through the gauze there was certainly an extra bit of clarity without it there, allowing him to take in details about his enemy he might never have noticed otherwise. Rounded cheeks, a faint scar, just little things; things that shouldn’t have mattered or even registered as important. Tobirama couldn’t say why he filed them all away now like little secrets he could keep for himself. 

“But you’re a Senju,” the other boy murmured, bemused. 

“And proud of it!” 

“Your mother was rumored to be half Yamanaka and half Hatake. You shouldn’t have any Yuhi blood in you.” 

Tobirama frowned and the hand reaching for his kunai holster paused with fingers wrapped around a cold steel handle. Now confused himself, he confirmed, “I don’t.”

“But your eyes! I’ve never seen anything like them.” The gunbai flagged a few more inches as Madara rocked in place almost as though he intended to step forward and caught himself at the last moment.

It didn’t take much to figure out why. Over the years the few people outside of their clan who had been allowed to catch a glimpse of his eyes had reacted in any manner of ways; Tobirama had seen that look on more than one person before. Fascination, hints of intrigue. If they weren’t standing on opposite sides of the war he wouldn’t have been surprised to see that look devolve in to lust as others had. Madara wasn’t stupid enough for that, though, and Tobirama didn’t bother to give either of them enough time to figure out where that reaction would have ended up. 

In the next instant he was gone, turning heel and dashing back towards the safety of Hashirama's chakra where it called to him like a beacon even half a day’s travel away, safely tucked in their home within the Senju compound. Madara's presence gave chase for more than an hour but Tobirama was faster. Almost effortlessly he outran the other, refusing to slow his pace until there had been no sign of pursuit for more than three hours. Here in the wilds of Hi no Kuni only fools took a chance when it wasn’t necessary. 

Waiting for the winds to change nearly drove him to madness. Tobirama spent the next week on edge every moment of the day, always certain that the next would bring news of an Uchiha attack and always baffled when none came. Surely, he told himself, they must be planning something. As heir to their clan it would be Madara's duty to share any advantages he might have discovered against one of their deadliest enemies. It would be folly to hope that he might not share what he had seen. Yet the days continued to roll by with no sign that the winds of fate had changed or even a sign that the Uchiha might be gathering themselves for some sort of plan. 

By the time their clans finally met in battle again it was Butsuma who led their forces on the attack, just another foray in to enemy territory, just another attempt to push the boundary line between their lands. Over the years the boundary had been pushed back and forth so many times that Tobirama had come to think of that large swath of the forest as no man’s land, exercising due caution whenever he traversed the area without bothering to keep track of who supposedly controlled it at any time. It was all that saved him from Madara's initial attack on the day his greatest secret had been uncovered. Now it was all that extreme caution which left him exhausted from staying on edge for so long, limbs heavier than they should have been as he took the field, the familiar weight of his sword dragging his arm down so that it felt as though it took forever to meet the swing of his rival’s answering blade.

To his utter confusion, nothing seemed to have changed. No eyes followed his movements, no extra bodies rushed him, his senses picked up no squad lying in wait to ambush him the moment he let down his defenses. He almost could have believed that Madara had kept what he learned to himself for some unknown reason – until Izuna bulled in close to lock blades with him and sneered with their faces only inches apart. 

“I know you can see me,” he growled. 

“Congratulations,” Tobirama snapped. “I never said I couldn’t.” Which was true, in his defense. Although they had known that popular rumor stated Tobirama as blind none in the Senju clan had ever actively spread those rumors themselves. Of course, they’d done nothing to stop them either, simply let people say what they would to keep attention away from the sacred truth hiding in plain sight. 

With a growl his counterpart broke away, twisting to the side and following through the motion with a vicious strike. Tobirama blocked him and they began their dance anew. It was the same routine they had been going through together since Tobirama first joined the battles and found a perfect foil in the Uchiha second heir – although he hadn’t been the second heir back then. For years it had felt like destiny or fate that he should be the one to hold back the tide of Izuna’s wrath, the same barrier that his brother made against Madara's skill, his blows strengthened with conviction in the future he portended. 

Today it was different. Today his faith was shaken in a way he couldn’t explain and like a true shinobi Izuna smelled his weakness. When he quit the field that day he bore twice as many wounds as he had ever seen at his opponent’s hand, enough that he was ashamed to admit to them until Hashirama sat him down and forced him to reveal all the places he’d been hurt. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” his brother demanded, tutting over a long slice on his right calf. Tobirama turned his face away in a sulk until he felt the gentle touch of fingers against his chin. “Hey, what’s wrong? It isn’t like you to hide when you get hurt. You…you know how important you are to everyone.” 

“I know.” And he did. He also knew what Hashirama truly meant by those words.

“So are you going to tell me? Or do I need to pull out the puppy face and guilt you in to it?” 

Easier said than done. As his brother pointed out, Tobirama was all too aware of the hopes that he carried for his people, how they revered him and hung on his every word like a prophet. He’d never known what it was to go unnoticed, unremarkable. But for all that he appreciated the love and support there were times like now when he found it nothing more than a stifling weight. It was times like these when he appreciated his brother all the more, one of the few who had ever looked at him and seen nothing more than a man, a person, flawed and messy just like the rest of the world. Hashirama would have loved him no matter what color his eyes were.

“Your  _ friend _ ,” he muttered eventually. “He saw something he wasn’t supposed to.” 

The fingers on his chin slid up to curl around the side of his face.

“When? How?”

“On my way back from my last mission. I sensed him in the forest getting close to one of our patrols. Mitsuki was there, her first patrol, she would not have survived. So I led him away and he got the best of me.” Tobirama met his brother’s worried gaze. “I should have warned our people but the words just kept sticking in my throat and no matter how long I waited nothing ever happened.”

“Yeah…nothing happened.” Hashirama sat back on his heels with a thoughtful expression and it was clear that he was running over the past few hours in his mind, looking at everything that had happened in a new light. 

“I kept expecting some kind of new attack.” 

With a nod his brother reached for the wound on his leg again, picking up where he had left off healing it. “But nothing was different. Madara wasn’t acting strange at all and I didn’t see anyone go near you except for Izuna just like usual.” 

“Exactly. And yet I know he told his brother, Izuna said something to me. It all just makes me nervous. What are they waiting for? If they think they can lull me in to a false sense of security they’re wrong, I’m not that stupid.” Only a half wit would ever dare to relax when they knew the enemy was coming for them. Tobirama would rather leave that title to the people who deserved it. 

“You think they’re still planning something,” Hashirama guessed. 

“It wouldn’t make any sense for your  _ friend  _ to keep this to himself.” 

“Why do you always say it like that?”

Tobirama blinked. “Say what? What am I saying?” 

“You always put this emphasis on calling him my friend like you think it’s an insult or something. We really were friends, Tobi, you know that. We both believed in peace once. Don’t you think it’s possible that maybe there’s a part of him that could still believe? Maybe that’s why he hasn’t said anything!” 

“But he did say something,” he pointed out, irritated by the rebuke. “I say it like that because while you cling to the fantasies of childhood it’s all too obvious to me that Madara has not.”

A pout appeared on his brother’s face even as he moved on to the torn flesh of Tobirama’s right arm. “How can you know that for sure? You’re not in his head. And you don’t know him like I do!” 

“You don’t know him at all. Not anymore. No, don’t give me that look, I’m not saying it to be cruel. You may have been friends when you were children but it’s been more than a decade since then and people change as they get older. He’s had more than ten years living under Tajima. If the man is anything like our own father then you know what sort of hatred fills his heart and Madara does not have a brother like you to temper such rhetoric.” 

“Izuna never did believe in peace…”

“Precisely. Besides that, so what if he did? Let’s set reality aside for one minute and imagine that Madara could still want peace. It would change nothing.”

“How can you say that!?” 

Tobirama brought his other arm around to lay a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I was born to bring their end,” he said, projecting as much of his usual confidence as he could. “Whether you or he wants peace cannot change what the fates have set in motion.” 

He swallowed the rest of his words but they didn’t need to be spoken anyway. It was clear from the look in his eyes that Hashirama already knew. What did it matter what one person wanted if the rest of their clan were foaming at the mouth for their long awaited victory? Hashirama was not the clan head. Not yet. And even if he were Tobirama wasn’t sure his voice was powerful enough to sway the opinions of so many. 

Neither of them spoke while Hashirama healed the rest of his wounds, each mired in their own thoughts. To Tobirama it said something about their bond that he could speak in such a way to his brother and the man still chose to heal him rather than sending him to the medic hall. He watched the green light knitting his flesh back together and wondered what it was about the look in Madara's eyes that day in the forest that had shaken him so. How could the prophecy of his birth feel less certain in his heart after one simple encounter where nothing truly happened? It shouldn’t have mattered that Madara saw his eyes. 

So why did he feel as though his beliefs were crumbling around him like a thin veneer fading away to reveal the truth hidden below?

“Do you really believe in the omens?” Hashirama's voice nearly startled him out of his skin after getting lost in his own head. After the words sunk in he frowned defensively. 

“Of course I do,” he insisted, hoping almost to convince himself as well. “Don’t you?” 

“I mean the way that the rest of our clan do. Everyone says that you were born to foretell the end of this war. But…”

“But?” 

Hashirama stood and looked down at him with an unreadable expression. “There’s more than one way to end a war. I started thinking about this a long time ago, when Madara and I met at the river, before I knew who he really was. After I figured out what clan he was from it hurt to know that someday I would have to watch someone I love cut down the friend I had come to care about.”

“Anija…” In the confusion of insult and pain that his brother would betray him by attaching himself to the ones they were destined to destroy, Tobirama realized he’d never taken the time to appreciate how difficult such thoughts would have been for a young soft heart like Hashirama's. 

“I’m not trying to dig up old hurts.” The forgiveness in his eyes almost stung in its sincerity. “But it got me thinking. Our whole clan is so caught up in the idea of defeat that I don’t think any of them have ever stopped to consider that there’s another way to end this war.” 

With something like shame building in his chest Tobirama resisted the urge to fidget like an upbraided child. 

“How?” he asked. 

“Peace. We make peace with the Uchiha. That would end the war just as much as killing them all but think of how many lives it would spare. And I don’t just mean theirs; how many of our people die for every one of theirs we take down?”

“Ah. You’ve…spoken like that before.” 

Of the stupidity and the futility, the pointlessness of endless war, such things he had heard from his brother’s lips a hundred times or more. He’d never heard them in quite this context though. It was hard to swallow the knowledge that Hashirama had been holding such thoughts to his chest for so long, hard to see past the instinctual anger for perceived duplicity and even more difficult forcing himself to face the fact that he hadn’t been worthy of being trusted with this secret. That Hashirama had known not to say such things to him. 

It was not the elder who had been a poor brother as he had thoughtlessly accused when they were younger. It was himself who had failed the other, failed to even consider looking at any other perspective but his own. His touch was hesitant as he reached out to brush their fingers together. 

“What was he like?” he asked, something he had never thought to even wonder about before. 

Hashirama's eyes lit up and although it was difficult to hear Tobirama forced himself to sit and listen to the next full hour of praises for a man he had only known to hate. Apparently, according to his sibling, he would have liked Madara. It was hard to imagine himself enjoying anyone’s company who bore the uchiwa fan but in the silence of his own thoughts he was able to admit that the descriptions he was listening to did sound like the sort of rare person he would get along with. There were few who could match his level of cold sarcasm and even fewer able to see the softness hidden underneath. Evidently Madara would have been one of those few. 

Still could be if Hashirama had his way. And wasn’t that just a little terrifying to think about?

Later that night as he lay awake in bed Tobirama traced the lines that Izuna had flayed open on his arms and wondered if perhaps his rival might also be struggling against the idea of peace. As a concept itself he had always scoffed and declared it unlikely, implausible, and therefore not worth putting any effort in to. To know that his most precious person still clung to peace as a dream was different. Now should he deliberately turn up his nose he would be rejecting everything he brother wanted for the future and giving up on Hashirama felt so much worse than giving up on everything the rest of his clan had ever expected of him. 

Tobirama was born a harbinger of the end. Yet despite nurturing an inquisitive mind always looking for new angles it was only now at seventeen that he wondered if perhaps Hashirama was right, perhaps they had all closed their eyes to any possible end but the one they wanted. 

A mind does not change overnight, however, and he himself was no exception to that rule. It took weeks of stepping carefully around his precious sibling and hours sequestered away in deep thought before finally Tobirama thought he had looked at their situation from every angle. He considered what he wanted, what was expected of him, and the consequences of each path that lay here at the crossroads before him. When he made his decision he sat in the quiet of his laboratory and blew out a sigh, already exhausted before he had even begun. Changing his own mind had been hard enough. 

Just thinking about how much effort it would take to change everyone else’s already made him feel tired. 

Having known each other their entire lives, he’d thought he knew Hashirama pretty well. In light of recent revelations that belief was already on shaky ground but the day his brother led him to the river and he discovered the man was sneaky enough to send messages without him knowing Tobirama realized that perhaps he should be spending a little more time with his eyes on the present instead of the future. Clearly he didn’t know Hashirama nearly as well as he thought he did. That would have to wait for later, however, at a time when he was not standing on the opposite bank from a man who had only recently tried to take his life. 

“You can do away with the blindfold,” Madara called. “I already know you don’t need it.” 

“It isn’t a blindfold and I believe I would be much more comfortable leaving it on.” His fingers twitched but he left them at his side, refusing to fiddle with the material over his eyes. It had never come loose before and it wouldn’t now. Madara might have managed to cut it off once before but Tobirama would not be giving him a second opportunity to do so. Just because he had grudgingly agreed to consider peace as a plausibility didn’t mean he was open to leaving himself so vulnerable.

Although he’d thought his refusal was about as polite as one could expect given the circumstances Madara still frowned. Somehow he managed to look put out rather than angry but before Tobirama had a chance to wonder about that Hashirama was crossing his arms and tutting, of all things. Madara didn’t seem to appreciate that either. 

“My brother’s eyes were not why I asked you to meet with us,” Hashirama said. 

“You promised you would explain them.” 

“What!?” Tobirama lashed out with one hand, knocking the breath from Hashirama's chest with a solid blow. “You’d better not have!” 

His brother whined and rubbed at his sternum. “But he’s curious! And you said–”

“I  _ said _ that I agreed there was a  _ chance _ we all misinterpreted.  _ Not _ that I was okay with you promising things that are mine to share!” 

From his side of the river Madara watched the two of them with curiosity plainly visible on his face, not even bothering to conceal it. Tobirama met that gaze head on with his chin raised in challenge. With the gauze in place he felt protected, armored, like he could stand his ground just a little more solidly. In those few moments he looked upon Madara without the barrier between them his unclouded sight had picked up on so many distracting details that he could not allow to confuse his thoughts this time. 

On the other hand he recognized that Madara had very little tethering him to the gossamer promise of peace. He had no brother to bolster his spirits when the road seemed long, no clan members whispering secret dreams of a better life. Without the offer of something to tie their cause together it was all too likely the man would betray them and for his brother’s sake Tobirama could not let that happen. Swallowing that realization was almost harder than coming around to this idea himself had been, though that might be because he didn’t have several weeks to come to terms with it.

“Ugh. Go on then,” he growled. 

“Are you sure?” Hashirama asked, perking up immediately. In answer Tobirama looked away with a huff but that was all he needed to communicate his surrender. Immediately his brother was blurting out their most cherished clan secret, though Madara's eyes remained on the subject of the conversation. “Tobi’s eyes are sacred to the clan. Our people believe them to be an omen that we will finally see victory over yours.” 

Madara snarled instinctively and Tobirama huffed.

“Let him finish,” he snapped, startling the other back to silence. Hashirama giggled and then went on. 

“For years now I’ve been listening to them all talk about the end of the war and I haven’t said anything because it would definitely upset some of them but I think they’ve all got it wrong. Like I said to Tobi, there’s more than one way to end a war!”

“You…still believe in all that?” Scowl fading, Madara's face slowly filled with something that might have been hope. It was an interesting look on him. Even without removing the gauze Tobirama was dismayed to realize he could still see a great amount of detail as that surprisingly attractive face softened. 

“Of course! I never stopped believing that we all deserve peace! And I think it could work, I really do, it’ll just be a bit harder than it used to be to convince everyone else that it’s the best option.” With a nervous chuckle Hashirama added, “My people really do want to kill yours. They sort of revere Tobi like some messiah or something because they really believe he’s a sign you’re all going to die by our swords.” 

Both of them turned to look at him and Tobirama folded his arms defensively. He couldn’t control what assumptions had been made at his birth. Nor could he change the fact that he’d been raised and taught with this knowledge as an absolute truth. The past was the past; he’d already come around to a different way of thinking and refused to shoulder the responsibilities of days gone by. 

“So that’s why you wear the blindfold,” Madara hummed. 

“For the last time,” Tobirama growled at him, “it is not a blindfold! I can see perfectly fine through it! A blindfold would – per its root word – prevent me from seeing!” 

“Well then why the hell bother with it!?”

Hashirama held out a calming hand in both their directions before anything could start. “Ah, well, it’s like I said. His eyes are considered sacred. So they’re sort of…how do I explain this? You know how sometimes the monks will turn people away from the Grand Fire Temple because they’re ‘not worthy’ in some way? It’s like that. Anyone outside the clan is considered unworthy of seeing such a powerful omen. I think some of our people believe that if any Uchiha were to ever see them it would break the destiny they predicted.” 

Even Tobirama had to snort at that. He had learned from an early age to covet this very special part of himself and only allow himself to be vulnerable with those he trusted but the idea that the future might be changed by someone looking in to his eyes that wasn’t supposed to?

The sound died in his throat in the next moment as he realized that, in a way, that was true. In so many words that was precisely what had happened. Before they crossed blades for the first time Tobirama had accepted bringing an end to the Uchiha clan as his life’s purpose, accepted that fate had chosen him as a guide for his people. All it took was a few moments when the veil fell away and Madara looked directly in to his eyes for that to change. Such changes had been helped along by his brother of course but it was that moment which set them in motion and wasn’t that just interesting? 

Yet it wasn’t likely that either of these two wanted to spend the rest of their afternoon discussing the implication towards the concept of free will versus destiny. Madara had already gone through an entire soliloquy about why that was stupid by the time he started paying attention again, leaving him grateful that he’d been able to tune it all out. 

“Right, so down to brass tacks.” Tobirama interrupted without apology. “Brother, exactly what did you bring the three of us here to accomplish?”

“Peace,” Hashirama blurted. 

As if there could have ever been any other response. 

“Be more specific. Peace is a very large generalization. What can we do today?”

“We can make a pact. I want the three of us to promise that this will be our goal. Madara, someday you and I will be in our fathers’ places. The clans will follow where we lead. When that day comes I want to lead my people to a life where children aren’t thrown on to the battlefield early, where brothers always come home alive, where all of us can coexist in harmony.” His face was beaming with a smile by the end of such a pretty speech. Then fell in to a mighty pout in an instant when Madara scoffed. 

“You want a fairy tale,” the man said.

Hashirama whined. “But you said you still wanted that too!” 

“I said I wanted peace, not that I expected everyone to hold hands and sing hymns together.”

“But Maddy!” 

The derivative was so unexpected Tobirama let out a graceless snort of laughter before he could stop himself, a violent explosion of mirth that actually hurt his nose on the way out. Dignity scampered even father out of his reach as Madara puffed out with offense like a landed bird with ruffled feathers and sent him tumbling in to guffaws of laughter that shook his entire body. Suddenly it was much easier to imagine the two of these idiots as young friends, innocent children feeding off each other’s stupidity, instead of the strong clan heirs they were. 

“Don’t ever call me that again!” Madara exploded, cheeks red with embarrassment. 

“Aww, I thought it was cute.”

“No! It isn’t! That’s – just don’t do that! I have a name, use it!”

“Well that’s just not as fun.” Hashirama's pout deepened and his entire body sagged with dramatic sadness. Nothing serious, really. His moods only ever lasted until another thought distracted him and he was all too easy to distract. 

It took some time for Tobirama to collect himself again, aware of the dark eyes that watched him yet uncaring for whatever thoughts were running through the Uchiha’s mind. Even if they weren’t here to talk about cooperation there was no way anyone would have been stupid enough to attack both the Senju heirs at the same time. At least no one as smart as Madara was rumored to be. Whether or not those rumors were true remained to be seen and Tobirama honestly had his doubts about that. Mainly based on the man’s choice of friends. 

Eyes narrowing, squinting through the gauze, he realized that perhaps using the term ‘man’ to describe any of them was still a little premature. It was easy to forget how young they all were still. Only Hashirama had entered his twenties, Madara still a year behind, and Tobirama himself still had a few years to go before he could be considered a legal adult by civilian standards. Yet here they stood discussing the future as if it were up to the three of them to carry the weight of it all on themselves. He wondered whether Madara would go home and share what happened here today with his brother. What Izuna might say about it all. 

He wondered if dreams meant as much to the Uchiha as they did to the Senju. 

Making plans with someone he had very little reason to trust was surprisingly easy. To his great surprise Madara showed himself to be an invaluable ally against Hashirama’s more fantastical ideas and a fellow voice of reason in the face of overwhelming enthusiasm. As much as he loved his sibling, the idiot’s head was permanently stuck in the clouds and it usually took a firm voice to bring him back down to more realistic expectations. Impossible though it had seemed before that day, by the time they were clearing any sign of their presence from the riverbanks the three of them had managed to cobble together a plan that even Tobirama deemed half-decent. It wasn’t foolproof and it didn’t cover every eventuality but there was sure to be several years ahead of them to work on that.

Of all the possible things that could go wrong there were several that Tobirama had considered more likely than others. The potential for their meetings to be discovered, an untimely death, or even the interference of some other clan. He had even taken in to account the chance of a natural disaster. Yet there was one little hiccup he could never have predicted, nor would he have given any credence to the idea if ever if had occurred to him.

Developing a crush on this ridiculous flailing Uchiha who exposed him to the world for the very first time was nothing short of stupid - and entirely unexpected, to say the least. His one saving grace was the fact that Hashirama hadn’t seemed to pick up on these unwanted feelings but whether or not Madara had was impossible to tell. On the rare occasion he allowed his eyes to linger on a shapely arm or that jawline just begging to be nibbled on he was almost always caught by dark eyes staring back at him. The only reason he could think of for the Uchiha to give him so much attention was that he must still have doubts about how serious Tobirama was, how invested he was in these plans, an absurd and quite frankly insulting assumption if it was true. 

Once – and only once – he allowed himself to entertain the notion that perhaps Madara might have grown an interest in him as well. Then the idiot started a shouting match that would have attracted patrols from both territories if not for the silencing barrier they always set up and so he readily abandoned such a ridiculous fantasy. If Madara were going to see value in any Senju it would undoubtedly have been the one he could actually stand to have a full conversation with at normal volumes. Thankfully for Tobirama’s untested heart he didn’t seem inclined towards Hashirama either. 

Watching in silence wasn’t so bad. Such had been his way since he was a child. One always learned the most interesting things when one was silent enough that others sometimes forgot they were being observed. If he held his tongue for long enough he was often treated to the sight of brash laughter, head thrown back and dark hair spilling farther and farther down with every meeting. The brilliant smile that always hung ever so crooked on his face only seemed to come out when it had been long enough for him to forget that Tobirama was even there and he felt comfortable enough to grin at the man who had rapidly become his best friend once again. How easy it was for the two of them to coexist pinched at something in Tobirama’s chest that he refused to look at. Jealousy was such an ugly emotion. Somehow he imagined that if the two of them were inclined towards each other romantically it might have been almost easier to watch, easier to step aside, but a little yearning was hardly debilitating. 

“I do wish you would smile for him more,” Hashirama mentioned once as they made their way back to the compound in the dead of night. “How are you supposed to make friends if you don’t smile?” 

“And who said I wanted him to be my friend?” Tobirama had retorted, immediately defensive. 

“If you didn’t want to be friends I don’t think you would stare at him so intensely the way you do. Don’t forget that I’m your brother, I know what it looks like when you’re trying to work out some kind of difficult puzzle. Maddy isn’t difficult! Just be nice to him!” 

Utterly mortified, Tobirama was quick to distract his sibling with an idea he hadn’t had a chance to share during their chats that evening. If even Hashirama had started to pick up on a few clues then he needed to work on reining himself in a little bit more. He thanked his lucky stars the man was too innocent to even consider the idea of any romantic interests. And too oblivious to pick up on any hints even if they did show through Tobirama’s impeccable poker face. 

That being said, although he was more than capable of holding this secret under his tongue until he reached his grave, it was still a lonely thing. Some days when they all agreed to meet Tobirama fell in to the habit of feigning other duties just to slip away from his brother and arrive at that day’s meeting spot early, soaking in the silence of the forest and allowing his imagination carefully rationed moments of freedom. Knowing better than to act on his desires didn’t make it any less fun to imagine a world in which he got to know the touch of Madara's hand upon his own, the feel of dark hair against his skin, the weight of a gentle smile earned all on his own. Taking a little time alone to imagine what it would be like to kiss those full lips helped him concentrate and spend his focus on more important things once the other two arrived to talk about their efforts towards guiding the future.

He was caught up in the best parts of such impossible imagining on the day Madara finally managed to do something he’d been trying to do since their second or third meeting several years before: sneak up on him.

At seventeen years old Tobirama had already been taller and quieter, his senses able to both reach out farther and pull in tighter. Older Madara might have been and stronger in other ways but after the insult of being unveiled against his will Tobirama had taken the first opportunity available to get back at the man by sneaking up on him and speaking loudly as though he entirely expected Madara to know he was there. Seeing him jump so high in the air and listening to him splutter had kept Tobirama in good spirits for a solid week. Watching him fail again and again at every opportunity he took to return the favor since that day had been a continuous source of entertainment and also a very private thrill; to have Madara's attention on him for any reason felt good in a way that left him feeling guilty and a little dirty, like a waif clinging to scraps thrown by uncaring bystanders. 

Now here he stood at twenty-two years old unsure if his face was burning more for the uncharacteristic yelp that had left his mouth when Madara spoke up from beside him or for the disgustingly soppy smile he’d just been wearing on his face. How could he have allowed himself to tune out of the world so badly? Tobirama sent prayers for the kami to strike him dead on the spot as Madara rocked back and forth with the force of his howling laughter. 

“That was – ahahahaha – that – hahaha – that was so – ahaha – worth the wait!” The man had both arms wrapped around his belly as though worried he might split apart. 

“Are you quite done?” Tobirama snapped. 

“Oh my gods above, that was amazing! You should have heard yourself!” Madara cut himself off with fresh peals of laughter, clutching himself all the tighter and bending double. It was the first time Tobirama had ever hated listening to such a joyous sound. 

With a scowl he threw out his chakra in search of Hashirama. To his utter dismay the idiot hadn’t even left their compound yet. Of course. The one day he managed to be late to see his best friend and that just had to be the day Madara arrived early. Tobirama had no idea what he was meant to do to fill the time until his brother arrived. It wasn’t as though he had much common ground to relate to – and he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t make a fool of himself again if he tried. 

It felt like years had passed by the time Madara finally calmed down enough to gulp for air and wipe the tears of mirth out from under his eyes. 

“Knew I’d get you some day,” he tittered. “I just didn’t think it would be the one time that I wasn’t even trying to!” 

“Drop dead,” Tobirama grumbled.

“Lighten up, we’re even now!” 

“We most certainly are not! You have two counts against me now! Best watch your back, Uchiha, or you’ll go home with a Senju crest painted on it!” Such was the best threat he could think of at the moment which didn’t include bodily harm.

Rather than infuriate the other as he’d hoped all it did was cause confusion. 

“Two counts?” Madara asked. “You got me once and now I finally got you back. What was the first count?”

Since actions spoke louder than words all Tobirama did was lift one hand to point imperiously at the gauze over his eyes, one eyebrow raised above the edge in judgment. It took a moment before Madara blinked in that way of his which meant he was remembering something long forgotten. And yet still he failed to react in any expected way. 

“Huh. You know, I kind of forgot about that. I guess I’m just so used to seeing you wear the veil that sometimes I forget it’s there.” His head tilted to one side with a hum and Tobirama wasn’t sure what to make of that. To be safe he folded both arms across his chest like a shield. 

“Anija will still be some time,” he deflected. “I can feel him puttering away in the compound doing kami knows what.”

“Idiot. He’ll get here, though. His head’s stuck in the clouds but he’s dependable.” Madara shrugged.

Somewhat surprised to hear anything complimentary out of such a grumpy man, Tobirama opened his mouth to question it. Then he snapped his teeth together again. No point in rocking the boat earlier than necessary. No doubt the two of them would be at each other’s throats like usual in no time but he was selfish enough to want to enjoy these rare moments of peace when one might almost think they might be starting to finally get along. 

“What were you daydreaming about anyway?” 

“Fuck off.” Tobirama closed his eyes and retracted his previous thoughts. Anija could not get here fast enough. No pretense in the world could be worth the teasing light glinting back at him.

Madara snickered. “That means it must have been something really good. I’ve seen that look before. Izuna always gets that look when he starts hanging around a new pretty girl. Is that it? You’re turning red! Ha! Have you got a pretty girl back home, Senju?” 

His question was both wildly off the mark and uncomfortably close to it, causing Tobirama’s cheeks to redden further. Blushing had always been a terrible look on him. If that wasn’t enough to make him wish for the ground to swallow him whole just the idea of explaining what had really been on his mind made him long for a cliff to throw himself off of. There was really no need for anyone to ever find out what sort of disgustingly sappy thoughts he entertained in the privacy of his own mind; if anyone ever did they might make the horrible mistake of thinking he was anything like his flower child of an older sibling. 

Speaking of whom, it was curious to him that Madara didn’t seem more upset at Hashirama's lateness. By all accounts the man should have pitched a fit to be stuck with Tobirama for an undetermined amount of time. It felt entirely out of character for him to shrug off the delay unbothered, even more so for him to fill his time with friendly chit chat – or his approximation thereof. 

“No,” Tobirama ground out at last. “I do not have a pretty anyone waiting for me at home.” And if he did it would have hardly been a girl. Even young he had known his own preferences. 

“Then you must have a pretty someone you wish was waiting for you, yeah?” Madara lifted one eyebrow, half teasing and half thoughtful. He had never looked so dangerous before as he did in that moment.

“Are we to waste the rest of the evening with asinine questions about my nonexistent love life?” 

“It would probably be more entertaining than repeating the idiocies my elders were prattling on about earlier.” When Madara shrugged it was with the ease of someone unsurprised by and entirely prepared to ignore whatever had been said to him. Hashirama often exhibited the same blissful calm after a meeting with their own elders. 

Tightening his arms against his chest, Tobirama let his eyes fall to the river several meters away. Keeping their meetings along the Nakano was probably stupid but it was just as easily accessible for both parties, easy to explain their presence should they ever need to, and there had really been no talking either of his two coconspirators out of the nostalgia surrounding these particular riverbanks. It was a small miracle he was able to convince them that meeting in exactly the same spot every time was stupid. The waters passing them by were shallow enough here they could have crossed to the other side without the need for chakra, useful since they had given up staying on opposite sides of the river years ago.

Already comfortable on the bank which technically counted as enemy territory, Madara shifted his weight like he was giving some thought to stepping closer. Tobirama kept a weather eye on him, wary of some kind of prank or the like, but otherwise said nothing. 

“So? Go on. Tell me what you were smiling about!”

“You’re not going to let that go?”

“Not a chance. We need to pass the time somehow so I might as well have some fun.”

Tobirama narrowed his eyes. “And prying in to my personal matters is fun, is it?”

“Of course.” The wicked look on Madara's face was both enticing and very much not appreciated, all the more so because years of going ignored left Tobirama with no idea how he was meant to handle such an expression. “Are you going to tell me or should I just go ahead and start guessing?” 

“I doubt very much you would ever so much as consider the truth.” As soon as the words were out he winced. Playing along was stupid. He was basically daring the other to expose him. 

Just as he feared, Madara's eyes lit up with a very dangerous interest.

“Let’s see, what would you assume that I would never think of? Something unlikely, something that would put such a dopey smile on your face. Hashirama mentioned once that you proposed an academy in case he ever does get that village he’s still hung up on. Maybe something to do with that?”

“N-no…” Though his refusal was the truth Tobirama knew how suspicious he must look but he couldn’t help it. He’d had no idea that Hashirama ever spoke of his academy idea, would never have suspected Madara to remember such a thing. Generally he expected everything about himself to go in one ear and out the other considering how strenuously the man worked to avoid even looking at him some days. 

“Alright, not the academy. You never really denied that there was a someone you were  _ yearning _ for.” His grin returned to teasing. “Were you daydreaming about a pretty boy maybe?”

Before Tobirama had time to stop it his entire face had burst in to color and he damned his pale skin for being so prone to blushing. It was a rare occasion when he was embarrassed enough to do so but it was perfectly clear to everyone around when it did happen, splotches and all, deep red spreading down his neck and back over his ears. This particular emotion had never been very graceful on him. Madara seemed to be enjoying it if the feral grin was anything to go by.

“Looks like I hit a mark!”

“Fuck off.”

“Go on, tell me about him. Were you daydreaming about sweet little kisses and holding hands? Or perhaps something a little less innocent?” Madara's chuckle was dark. “Maybe you were planning out how you wanted to be pinned up against a tree and taken for a ride?” 

“Stop!” 

With every word he could feel the heat in his face growing hotter and hotter just as the heart in his chest withered smaller and smaller. He didn’t like this, being teased by the one he’d been thinking about. Just having his thoughts exposed so easily was terrible enough. If Madara caught even a single hint that these fantasies had been centered around him Tobirama could only imagine the scorn and disgust that would replace such cruel amusement. As close as he was to Hashirama and as much as he had proven that he truly wanted peace between their clans, no real bad feelings left in him for the Senju peoples, he’d been more than obvious in his continued opinions of Tobirama personally. 

Or at least he had behaved in a consistent manner that Tobirama had thus far interpreted as being entirely disdainful of him. Kami only knew what sort of madness was actually going on inside that scruffy head – and Tobirama was the last person who could ever claim to be good at reading other people. That was more of Hashirama's talent. 

As though summoned by the thought of himself, Hashirama's chakra at long last separated from the person he’d been speaking with and headed towards one of the usual places where they could slip away from the clan unnoticed. Tobirama tried not to be obvious about it as he breathed a sigh of relief. It would still be several minutes before the man joined them but it was a ray of hope that this torture would soon end. He’d never thought having Madara's attention all to himself for once would be something he would hate but to be mocked like this by the one person he desperately wished could see him in a better light was not exactly his idea of a fun time. 

If only he understood how to flirt and seduce like Touka on the rare occasion someone caught her eye enough to take them to bed. If only he could relate to people or exude warmth like his brother, friend to the entire world. 

If only their people would come to their senses now instead of forcing the three of them to play the long game. 

“Looks like I really did hit a nerve.” By some mercy the teasing had left Madara's voice, leaving him thoughtful. “It's fine if you like men, you know. You’re not the only one who appreciates the  _ real _ fairer sex. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” While it was a revelation that he too might prefer the company of men, Madara clearly didn’t understand how far from the truth he still was. 

“Who said I was ashamed?” Tobirama snapped.

“No? Hm. Perhaps it’s that you don’t want me to know who it was you were having your little dreams about?”

Alright so maybe he wasn’t as far from the truth as it seemed. Tobirama tried not to be too obvious about the jolt of panic that raced down his spine like electricity, every nerve in his body alight with the urge to flee. He locked his knees in place and forced his chin to raise, fighting the urge to hide himself away, and dared to meet those beautiful dark eyes through the screen of his veil. 

“I don’t think anything about me is any of your business. We’re not friends.” He forced the words out through his teeth and if his jaw weren’t clenched so tightly it might have fallen open at the expression that flashed over Madara's face, as though he had struck the man with an open palm. 

“You’re right. My apologies.” 

Neither of them said anything more, an awkward atmosphere dropping over their burbling little stretch of the Nakano. Tobirama turned his head away just to close his eyes and breathe. He had no idea what that look had been about, as though Madara had been the one to get hurt somehow in this exchange, and he hated the way he was instantly filled with regret for ending their conversation with such a cold and final tone. It was entirely his right to set boundaries and keep others on the far side of them. He and Madara were hardly close friends after all, that had been perfectly clear to him since the first conversation. Yet somehow he still felt as though he was the one to do something wrong here and he rather resented it. 

Hashirama took another quarter hour to arrive and neither of them spoke a single word in that time, avoiding each other’s gazes as though pretending they were both alone. For the entirety of that stretch Tobirama could only wonder at how different reality was from the stupidity that he had allowed himself to dream about. 

There was absolutely nothing about that day Tobirama would have said had gone well in any way. If asked for his opinion he would have said the entire day had been a waste of time, an unmitigated disaster. Neither he nor Madara were very talkative even after Hashirama showed up and beyond reporting on his progress turning the opinions of his own people towards the idea of peace Madara almost seemed to have checked out of the conversation entirely. 

Which only made it all the more confusing when the man suddenly began treating him differently the next time they met. In all the interactions they’d ever had Tobirama had read little more than distaste – at best disinterest – from the Uchiha heir. After that strange conversation when they first spoke alone he was tempted to check whether Madara had been replaced by some terrible body double as he seemed to undergo a complete personality switch. On the battlefield between their clans nothing changed, of course, since they had very little reason to even come near each other there but in the privacy of the meetings along the river it was almost as though the man had forgotten all the bad blood that ever existed between them just as Hashirama had been hoping for years. It was unutterably strange. 

It was complete bullshit. 

Genius that he was, Tobirama wasn’t nearly stupid enough to believe that Madara had simply decided to forgive and forget over the course of one conversation. Even without their personal history he knew the other well enough to know that he was more the type to hold a grudge until he was made to put it down by force. The desire for peace did not make him a forgiving man, it made him an heir worried about the survival of those under his protection.

Had nothing in their circumstances changed Tobirama was sure he could have gone months or even years internalizing his confusion without confronting the man. If things had continued as they were he might never have gotten answers. But that was the nature of the world, things had always been bound to change, though none of them expected the sudden nature of it all or the anticlimactic way their futures would finally begin to take shape. They had been preparing for the day they could move forward with the plans they’d been working on for so long; when it came they weren’t nearly as prepared as they thought they would be. 

Butsuma’s death came as a shock to them all, not the least because it came not at the hands of the one man who had been trying so hard to kill him. Of all the things to lay his father low Tobirama never suspected it would be an infected wound taken in some inconsequential border skirmish with a group of unclanned nobodies. Too busy to properly pay attention to his own body, by the time anyone knew there was something wrong Butsuma’s blood was poisoned beyond any chance to save him. He passed in the night, raving with fever, his last hours spent mumbling at an empty patch of air where he seemed to be imagining his late wife speaking back. Suddenly freed from the tyrannical reign of their warmongering father, both Hashirama and Tobirama were kept more than busy securing their positions in the clan as power transferred to them and the more traditional Senju immediately began a campaign to subvert any change in the way things had been run for the past several decades.

Scenting weakness like a shark scenting blood, Tajima increased the fury of his attacks upon the Senju in an effort to take advantage of this unstable period. Only Hashirama's strength and the fact that Madara had talked his brother in to some form of mercy kept those long few months from becoming a bloodbath. It was, in short, a stressful period. 

When they had time at last to meet between the three of them again Tobirama had reached the end of his rope, stepped past it, and soldiered on for several more weeks. He was tired. He was irritated. He’d been running on a cruelly small amount of sleep for an inhuman amount of time. 

He was in no mood to hold his temper. 

As busy as they both were now it was entirely understandable that he and his brother had not been able to slip out of the compound at the same time. Even at such a late hour in the evening they had both been denying themselves the comfort of a soft mattress in favor of seeing to other matters. Tobirama hardly noticed the scowl on his face when he made it to the bank of the Nakano until Madara caught sight of him and thick dark brows went crawling upwards. 

“Get up on the wrong side of the bed, did you?” he asked. 

“Don’t,” Tobirama snapped. “I’m not in the mood.” He snorted when Madara held up both hands in mock surrender. 

“Alright, alright, forgive a guy for caring.”

That, as it turned out, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Confusion and irritation and sleeplessness all balled together until the pressure became too much. Tobirama was exploding almost before he realized he was shouting with more aggression than he was typically known for off the battlefield. 

“Just stop!” he cried, marching over to shove one finger in a very startled Madara's chest. “Stop pretending that you care! We both know damn well that you don’t! I don’t know what game you’re trying to play at making me think you’d give even half a shit if I keeled over right now but I am sick of it! I don’t need this right now! My brother and I are under a lot of stress and I really do not need the confusion of trying to figure out what angle you are working so just stop it. Stop looking at me like you…like you…just stop looking at me! You don’t mean it!”

“Mean it?” It was hard to tell whether Madara was more baffled or taken aback but Tobirama had already flown straight past caring. 

“I don’t know exactly what you figured out or what theories you’ve got going on in your head about me, I know neither of us owe the other any mercy, but for the sake of my brother I thought you could at least try to pretend you want this peace as badly as he does!”

“Oi, I do want peace!” 

Tobirama curled his hand in to a fist and dragged their faces close like he thought he could scream his point directly in to the other man’s brain. “Then stop playing with me! Am I not already hurting enough? I know damn well you aren’t interested so stop trying to pretend you are!”

“Interested.” Madara's brows drew inwards. “Not…interested?” 

“We may be shinobi and all that implies but I never took you for a cruel man who plays with his kill.” Until his dying day Tobirama would deny the tremble in his voice.

Echoes of his flashfire rage bounced off the trees around them like blades but just as soon as it had come he found that he had run out of steam, suddenly so much more tired than he had been before. All that kept him locked in place was the residual burn in the pit of his stomach, the rejection, the ache of reminding himself day after day not to fall in to the trap of believing what he wished so badly could be true.

He expected anger, expected Madara to rally himself and lash out with all sorts of denials that would oh so obviously be false. Tobirama couldn’t remember the last time he had been so vulnerable as to fear the anger of another. When he felt his companion raising a hand he refused to flinch away only because he hoped whatever bruises were left on his skin could finally convince his heart of the folly in wanting something impossible. He expected a punch. 

Instead, as he so often managed to do, Madara surprised him. The tug on his veil was so far down the list of possible reactions he couldn’t even react to it. All he could do was remain frozen as the gauze was pulled away in a mocking reflection of the fight that started everything between them. 

“You know, it’s always so hard to tell what you really feel,” Madara breathed, “when you cover your eyes from me.” 

The words were barely out of his mouth before he used their proximity to lean forward and crash their lips together with all the frantic wanting Tobirama had been battling this whole time. And Tobirama wasted no time with protests. Who was he to question the providence of being handed exactly what he’d been dreaming of? He could figure out what was going on after he’d taken his fill of something that should be so far beyond his reach. Madara gave a low moan when Tobirama loosened his fists to slide them up and cup that gorgeous, frustrating face in a careful embrace. It was the most beautiful sound his ears had ever been blessed with. 

As much as he would have liked to say that time stopped for this moment they were parting much too soon, though he didn’t bother trying to protest this either. Whatever was happening he knew better than to press his luck. He watched Madara's eyes flutter open and savored the chance to see them from so close with nothing filtering his view of all the tiny details he immediately set about committing to memory. 

“Does that clear things up a little?” The question startled him, freezing his spine when it had only just melted with bliss. 

“Not at all,” he rumbled. “I was…not expecting that.” 

Madara gave him a look heavy with exasperation. “Seriously? After a kiss like that you still don’t get it?” 

“I would be hard pressed to interpret a kiss of any kind from you.” Tobirama admitted. It was hardly something they had ever done before nor something he’d been prepared for them to do at all – no matter what he fantasized about in the privacy of his own dreams. 

“One would think kisses of any sort would be self-explanatory.” Still a little sad and a little bemused, Madara's lips curled up with laughter clinging to the edges of his smile. 

“From someone who wants to kiss you, obviously,” Tobirama snorted, wary of that smile. “The only thing I’ve ever been sure you want from me is distance so you can enjoy speaking with Anija in peace.” He had actually considered just staying home and sending along his own contributions to their endless plans in note form but the thought of how terribly Hashirama would misinterpret them had made him shudder. 

Not to mention the idea of hiding himself away over a stupid little crush had brought a wave of shame crashing over him that tasted like failure. 

While his companion rocked back on both heels with his eyes widening at a dangerous rate Tobirama reached out with his inner senses and begged his brother to hurry up with whatever he was doing. The idiot didn’t even have anyone else near him anymore yet still he lingered in their home with such a calm in his chakra there was a good chance he might have actually fallen asleep. If that was the case then he had an entire storm waiting for when they saw each other again. They were both tired, that did not excuse him abandoning his supposedly precious little brother to the mire of an Uchiha’s games. 

“Kami, no wonder you never respond,” Madara said quietly, pulling Tobirama reluctantly back to whatever was happening here. 

“Respond to what?” he asked cautiously. 

“To anything, you oblivious fool. I’ve been trying to get in to your good graces since you so vehemently declared that we weren’t friends. Nothing I ever did seemed to soften you so I could fix that but I guess this is why. Suspicious bastard.” Still close enough that rocking forward again brought them only inches apart, Madara sighed. “I know I’m kind of prickly and hard to read but I always thought maybe you understood me at least a little the way your brother does.” 

Tobirama swallowed with some difficulty. He could smell cloves and smoke and a little bit of teriyaki that had probably been involved in the man’s dinner. “I don’t understand people as a general rule.” 

“Yeah. I guess I forgot that.” 

For a long stretch of aching heartbeats they did nothing but stand there and stare in to each other’s eyes. It was strange to note that this time the feeling of having someone gaze upon this sacred part of him didn’t feel nearly as exposing as it had before. Were he at all given to romanticisms he might have compared it to the opening of his soul, a sharing of his deepest secrets, willingly given with nothing but trust and hope to support his offer. Thankfully for his own self-image he was able to push most of that drivel from his mind. If he rather enjoyed the admiration in Madara's gaze then it could only be that repetition bred comfort, not that he was thrilled to be appreciated in any way by this man. 

“Do you think if I kiss you again you’ll get the point this time?” 

“That depends on which point you intend on making.” Tobirama hoped very fervently that his cheeks were not blushing as brightly as it felt like they were. 

“My point”-Madara's smile was indulgent, affectionate, impossibly beautiful-“is that I am much more fond of you than it seems you’ve realized and would not be averse to exploring that. Good, right? I even tried to sound wordy like you so you’d understand.”

“Ah. I– yes. I think I would get that point if you were to…er…”

To his utter mortification Tobirama found that he could not make himself finish that sentence. He felt like an adolescent fumbling through his first experiments in intimacy – and the fact that he was barely out of his adolescence with very scattered experiences in these matters did nothing to help that feeling.

By some mercy of the gods Madara chose to pass on such an open opportunity for mockery, lifting up on to his toes instead so he could press their lips back together. It was even more delicious the second time. Mostly because this time Tobirama was entirely on board with participating and none of his concentration was being wasted on wondering what the hell was happening or when it would have to stop. Entirely happy to be proven wrong for the first time in his life, he slid his hands down the distractingly solid chest before him just for the novelty of being allowed before wrapping them around a pair of hips he had spent far too many hours contemplating in shameful detail. 

There was of course a large part of him that was hardly able to believe that any of this was truly happening but it was easier to ignore that part than he would have thought. Probably that had something to do with the firm grip Madara had on him, holding him close and leaving very little room for any more misunderstandings. If his plan was to kiss all the doubts away then Tobirama could easily admit he was very okay with that plan. 

“Get the picture now?” Madara whispered as his kisses trailed off to one side, running up the line of Tobirama’s jaw in a most distracting manner. 

“I believe I do,” he breathed in return.

He owed his thanks to all the gods he had cursed before for allowing his brother to fall asleep and giving them the privacy they needed to finally address this. Only the spirits knew how long he would have continued to stew in silent confusion while Madara made his best attempts at subtle flirtations - efforts that no doubt would have continued to go entirely over Tobirama’s head until one of them finally broke in a much more violent manner. 

“This probably means we need to be a little more supportive of your brother’s little village fantasy, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Tobirama frowned, unhappy when the kisses stopped.

“I mean that having you all to myself will be a little difficult when neither of us are really in a position to leave our clans, you know?” Madara shrugged as though he hadn’t just sent anyone’s heart in to paroxysms. They had only kissed a couple of times, hadn’t even really discussed what they wanted to make of these feelings they apparently shared, was he really already thinking so far in to the future? Did he really see them being together for so long?

Trying not to be obvious about the massive ball of emotions crashing around in his chest, Tobirama nodded slowly. “If at all possible, maybe we avoid telling him the only reason we’re being supportive is so that we can make out a little more often.”

“Good plan.” Expression turning a little wistful, Madara tilted his head to one side. “You really do have such pretty eyes.”

“Pretty?”

“Would you have preferred handsome?”

“No that’s not- No one’s ever called them pretty before. Our people call them sacred and precious and even sometimes holy but I don’t remember anyone ever actually…complimenting them like that.” That wasn’t to say that he had been neglected or objectified in any way. Still, it was oddly pleasant to have someone look in to the eyes he’d been told all his life were special and have them declared little more than pretty. As though he were more than the omens his eyes supposedly predicted.

To his relief Madara allowed that to pass without offering comfort that he did not need. It wasn’t as though he felt unappreciated or unwanted somehow. Without these eyes he was sure that life would have been very different but his people would surely have loved him no less. 

“Your brother isn’t coming tonight, is he?”

“Ugh, you just had to ruin the moment by mentioning him.”

Tobirama pulled away, his nose wrinkling. The expression only deepened when Madara laughed. 

“You’re a stronger sensor than I am, if only by a little, can you tell what’s keeping him?”

“He fell asleep.” No need to check when he’d known that for a while now. 

“Right. So I have you all to myself for a while, then?” Laughter turned to leering, the warmth in Madara’s eyes bringing a blush to Tobirama’s cheeks that he just couldn’t fight this time. 

Parting that day wasn’t nearly as difficult as all the over-romanticized fairy tales liked to say. Tobirama watched Madara’s back disappear in to the trees knowing that they would see each other again in little more than a week. Keeping their budding relationship quiet was a bit difficult with his brother around but Hashirama grew only busier and busier as he took on more of his rightful clan head duties. As hard as it was to see him so tired so often Tobirama had faith the man would pull himself together once he got used to it all - and it was nice after all having such a convenient excuse to be alone with Madara, time to let themselves grow in to each other until their relationship felt as easy as breathing. 

Living with the death of his father also grew easier by the day. The man had never been a warm person by any stretch of the word but he had been as present for his sons as he could, had loved them in his own distant way. For all that their views on the world differed they had been a family. In his absence Tobirama and Hashirama found themselves settling in to their new roles gradually but with the ease of something they had been brought up expecting. They were heirs. It had always been inevitable that they would some day take their father’s place.

And yet despite knowing that Madara was in the same situation it still came as a shock when news of Tajima’s declining health reached them. Meetings between the three or even just the two of them grew even less frequent as Madara was driven to exhaustion preparing for the same roles that Hashirama and Tobirama had been settling in to themselves. On the occasions he did manage to slip away he looked just as tired as they had only a short while before, murmuring quietly in to Tobirama’s neck the first chance they had to be alone that he understood better what they had been going through. In a way it almost seemed as though what he had to deal with now was worse. 

They, at least, had not been forced to sit and watch as their father wasted away before their eyes, a slow decline no medicine or iryo jutsu could stop. 

Many of the Senju called for action on the day Tajima finally passed from the world, made obvious by the massive amount of smoke coming from their compound. That much smoke and such a dark color could only mean that a mourning pyre had been lit. Despite the irritation of fending off their own bloodthirsty kin Hashirma and Tobirama both found something to cheer them that day. Years of hard work had at long last paid off; the voices who called for them to take advantage of the Uchiha’s weakened state were loud but there were so much fewer of them than there had been in the past. Beneath the cries for blood there were quiet looks towards their new clan Head, hopeful eyes, a silent benediction for the future they knew was inevitable now. 

It was nearly a month before the Senju and Uchiha met across the battlefield again and when they did even those who had buried their heads under the sand for the last half a decade would have been able to tell that there was something different. At the head of their respective forces, Hashirama and Madara faced each other across the open space where so much blood had been spilled yet made no move towards violence. The Uchiha stood like statues in even ranks behind their leader, perfectly still, and Tobirama couldn’t help comparing them to the overly trained and showy toops that ‘protected’ the Daimyo. 

Then he couldn’t help but smile when Madara stepped forward alone, waving his people back with a stern yet absent hand. Izuna remained behind him with an utterly blank expression. Whatever thoughts were going through his mind he had clearly been warned to keep them to himself. 

“Let’s not waste time with flowery speeches,” Madara called. “This has been a long time coming. So come and get to it.” 

“Right!” Hashirama was nearly bursting at the seams with brilliant energy as he shot forward. Only Tobirama’s stern gaze kept some of their more stubborn kin back from following their leader in to what they clearly believed to be danger. When the two young titans met in the center their voices were just barely audible as they smiled at each other, visibly relaxed and entirely too pleased with themselves. 

“The Uchiha would make peace with the Senju.”

Hashirama stood tall, the very image of strength and confidence. “And the Senju would have the same. No more killing each other, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me,” Madara agreed, reaching out to clasp his old friend’s hand. 

It was hardly momentous, nothing like the great speeches passed down in stories of the generations before them and all the grand deeds they had accomplished, but Tobirama was happy to know he wasn’t the only one who thought that what they accomplished today was altogether much more important than anything their ancestors had ever done. More and more would agree as time went on and their numbers stopped dwindling too soon every year. All they needed was a little time to get used to the idea.

Unfortunately that meant that such naysayers would need to be dealt with now - and sooner rather than later, apparently, as Tobirama heard several voices beginning to grumble behind him, their voices unmuffled and easily heard across the field. Whether that was deliberate or not he would later admit that it gave them all a perfect opportunity. 

“How can we trust them?” The voice sounded like one of the men from his father’s generation, one of the few who actively enjoyed warfare. “They’re faithless, they’ll never keep to whatever agreement we make.”

“We don’t have any reason to trust you either!” someone called from the Uchiha ranks. Madara whipped around to glare down whoever had spoken but it was too late.

“Don’t then!”

“Peace? Ha! It’ll never stick.”

“I don’t care what they said,” another Senju voice declared. “Unless I see a reason that I should trust these dogs then I never will. That’s not peace. If anything that’s a ceasefire!”

Coming from the mouth of his own clan, Tobirama could not ask for a better opening. Neither of the men between their peoples looked surprised to see him step forward. They certainly weren’t surprised by the irritation naked on his face. He’d never been the sort to suffer fools and this close to the goal they had worked so hard for was not the time for patience. 

“What do your people know of me?” he asked. His words, unlike others, was deliberately pitched to ring from one end of the field to the other without sounding as though he were raising his voice. 

“Very little,” Madara replied with a grin. “All but my brother and I still think you blind.”

Murmurs rose from both sides, the Uchiha with an edge of incredulous curiosity and the Senju with notes of panic, anger, even indignation. Tobirama ignored them all. “Right. They want a show of trust? Let’s give them a show of trust.” 

Hashirama twitched when the veil fell away from his eyes but his brother was good enough to keep himself still and cover up any visible reactions. He understood the importance of presenting a united front. At his side Madara was putting in just a little less effort to covering up the besotted smile spreading across his face to the tune of several dozen Senju voices shouting with instinctive protest. 

“I am not blind,” Tobirama announced, turning to address the Uchiha directly. “I was born with red eyes, eyes the color or our greatest enemies’ greatest weapon, but rather than cursed and denounced I was praised. My people took this as a sign from the gods that the war between us was finally coming to an end.” He paused to look back over his shoulder for a moment before facing the Uchiha again. “Look around you. At the chance your leaders are offering you. For years many of my kin have told me that I was born to herald our victory but, as my brother says, there is more than one way to end a war. You want a show of trust? Do it yourself. Be the show of trust that others can follow. I trust you now with something my clan has hidden from yours for twenty years; what say you to that?”

To his eternal relief, neither of the men behind him had the poor taste to make fun of him for blathering on with a flowery speech as they had just agreed was unnecessary. Apparently both of them had forgotten that sometimes you needed to blind the masses with pretty words just to beat your point in to their heads. Strange that Hashirama, of all people, would pass on such an opportunity.

Several of the Uchiha were murmuring to each other, their expressions more positive and curious than the naked distrust of a moment ago, a good sign if there were ever going to be one. There were still a few left in his own clan determined to be a problem, however.

“You give them a reason to trust us but not a reason for us to trust them!” 

“Oh for flame’s sake,” Madara finally grumbled, losing his temper. “You want a reason? Fine!” 

Before even Hashirama had time to react he had stumped forward and caught his fingers around the top edge of Tobirama’s breastplate to pull him down. Shocked reactions of all sorts from gasps to literal screams echoed from one end of the field to the other but it was hard to care with soft warm lips moving against his own so gently, a clever tongue there and gone just enough to tease him with what he could have had if they were alone. Tobirama was all but panting with want when Madara let him go. Hashirama gurgled with broadsided confusion beside them, Izuna’s chakra boiled with rage as he stomped away from the ranks towards them, and none of it mattered.

Tobirama had eyes only for the smile on his partner’s face, the wild joy in those dark eyes as they stared in to his own. It was strange to think that he might never have to wear a veil again but he would have done far stranger things to see happiness in this man. For the chance to hold him close Tobirama would have done as many terrible things as he needed to. Losing their fathers had been bittersweet and there would always be a part of him saddened that neither man had lived to see this, that neither had been capable of seeing the potential in this, but as with all who had come before them their loss had paved the way for new lives to sprout and grow and survive where so many others hadn’t. 

“Do you think they got the point?” Madara flashed him a grin that never failed to leave him light on his feet, encouraging Tobirama to smile back perhaps a little softer than most had seen from him. 

“I think they must have by now,” he said.

“How quickly would you say we can turn peace in to a village?”

Pretending to give the question serious thought, Tobirama bit his tongue against the laughter that bubbled up while Hashirama began to sob. “A long time. Probably no less than a year, maybe two.”

“I have to wait that long?” Madara grumbled.

“For what?”

“To wake beside you, of course. I was hoping we could get around to making that happen sooner rather than later.” His grin was full of fire so bright it was hard to pay attention to the sobbing growing louder beside them or the screeching voice approaching from the other side. 

Izuna had all sorts of questions about his brother’s sanity and demands for an explanation of why the status of their relationship had not been shared with them. Hashirama moaned about the state of his own brother’s purity, torn between horrified and blindingly happy for his two most precious people finding love together. Dozens upon dozens of voices from both sides were yelling with a multitude of different opinions on everything that had just been revealed to them. 

And all that Tobirama could think was that surely his Anija had been right all along. Surely this was the future he was born to herald. With Madara’s hand slipping in to his own, with peace waiting on a clear horizon before them, he could want for nothing else. 

**Author's Note:**

> As with many of my stories, a big thank you to copyninken for helping me with some of the plot and suggesting [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3kFPBtc9BE)'s lyrics for the title!


End file.
